Deane had laid
her hand on the little girl's soft, auburn hair, as if to ask
forgiveness for the injustice done her by the selfish Eugenia,
whose only excuse for her extravagance was, that "no one in her
right mind need to think of bringing back any money from New
York." And Dora, from her seat on a little stool behind the stove,
understood nothing, thought of nothing, except that Eugenia looked
beautifully in her velvet cloak and furs, and that her aunt must
be very rich, to afford so many handsome articles of furniture as
the parlor contained.
"And I am glad that she is," she thought," for she will not be so
likely to think me in the way."
As time passed on, however, Dora, who was a close observer, began
to see things in their true light, and her life was far from being
happy. By her cousin Alice she was treated with a tolerable degree
of kindness, while Eugenia, without any really evil intention,
perhaps, seemed to take delight in annoying her sensitive cousin,
constantly taunting her with her dependence upon them, and asking
her sometimes how she expected to repay the debt of gratitude she
owed them.
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